The Story of Sorrel

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “We can’t sleep here. We need to leave as soon as we can,” Reyna said.

  “I know… Wherever Mama is, she isn’t sleeping in a nice soft bed.” He turned his eyes to the window, and the forest beyond. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 9

  Sorrel tugged at the chain about her neck. No amount of probing at the restraint would do her any good. The blasted thing had no lock. Whatever magic had reduced the chain to a dozen yards or so in length had also fused the shackle without so much as a keyhole. In all, the mound of chain attached to her weighed about as much as she did. It was inconvenient, but not impossible to tote along by itself. But when she’d reached the portion of Boviss’s lair with his mound of gold, he’d tipped the huge stone statue and pinned the end of her chain beneath it, leaving her with slack enough to investigate barely a quarter of the massive chamber.

  And that was how her time since then had been spent. He would walk her around from time to time like a pet, showing her this piece of his hoard or that, to brag. She would eat of his scraps. He would stare at her from atop his mound of riches. Something in his eyes made her feel like little more than another of the prizes that were scattered about. She supposed that was all she was.

  Though he saw through it, Sorrel made certain to shower him with praise every now and then. He may have known she was insincere, but there was no denying the glimmer in his eye as he heard her words lavished upon him.

  “You have so much wealth. You lair is so enormous. Even someone of your size could not use it all. Perhaps you could find a place for me. A place to stow me for those times when you desire solitude.”

  “A place where you can plot your escape unobserved? No. You remain where I can see you.” He shifted a bit, to get more comfortable atop his gold. “A malthrope from across the sea,” he mused. “How does a creature such as you find her way from one shore to another? The malthropes of the villages in my domain show little interest in the ocean. And I cannot imagine a human, elf, or dwarf taking you as a passenger.”

  “I came in secret. In a box. They believed me a wild animal for a menagerie.”

  “Fitting that you found your way to just such a fate.”

  She shut her eyes and tried to keep the tremor of anger from surfacing. “A collection this grand? I could not dream of such a thing,” she said, oozing admiration as authentically as she could manage. “You, who are so great.”

  “Feh. I get enough of that drivel from the others. Tell me. What has become of the land across the sea?”

  “Two great kingdoms wage war.”

  “Oh? To what end?”

  “Does it matter? Kingdoms don’t seem to need a reason.”

  “Not so. There is always a reason. Or an excuse. But I wouldn’t expect minds as small as yours to be curious of such things.”

  She narrowed her eyes briefly. “I may be small and rare. But you are grand and mighty. You must have stories to tell.”

  “You would have me entertain you?” he rumbled.

  She spread her arms. “You surround yourself with trophies. Those below? They worship you for what you are. Here, I can worship you for what you’ve done. Tell me of your great deeds.”

  Boviss tipped his head. “And I imagine you suspect you will trick me into revealing secrets to you.” He leaned closer to her. “You are not so clever as you may think.”

  She clutched her hands and lowered her head. “I only wish to know of your adventures, oh great Boviss, the one who protects my people.”

  He shook his head. “Pathetic. But the days are long, and there is little to fill them. So you will have your tales. You will have no use for what little lessons they teach you.”

  He raised his head and spread his wings. “Eyes such as yours may look upon my hoard and imagine that those things within this chamber are my greatest treasures. Such are the delusions of a small mind.”

  Boviss scooped up a clawful of gold nuggets from the mound that made up his bed and let them sprinkle down in a glittering rain. “The blood and sweat of your people brought me this. A trifling. Fit to sleep upon. I have more gold caught among my scales than your kind will see in a lifetime. My greatest achievement is the lair itself.”

  He drew in a deep breath, puffing up his chest and kindling a deep orange glow within his throat. He released a column of flame that lanced down the hallway on his left. The lights were illuminated, revealing its scope and splendor. Another breath curled over Sorrel’s head, threatening to roast her alive. One after another, he belched flames down the remaining hallways until the grandness of his lair was made clear. This place was large enough to house a sprawling city. Not just something like the Fennecs called home. This could rival the towering places of wood and stone that the humans called home. Or the elves. Or…

  “Dwarves,” Boviss stated. “Even you can’t have missed their marks all around you. Many once called this mountain home. They dig deep into the world, stabbing at its heart. But one dwarf led his people upward. With their picks and their machines, they sought to hollow the whole of the mountain, to make it into some hideous monument to their industry. They created something grander than they deserved.”

  He padded down from his bed of gold and ran a claw across the surface of one of the columns. The carving there depicted some massive battle, dwarf against dwarf. But slashed across the carving was something that spoke of a less glorious battle. Marks that matched Boviss’s own claws gouged long furrows out of the stone.

  “They are tenacious, the dwarves. The battles lasted for years. Their busy little minds dreamed up machines to battle me. I roasted them by the score. Trampled them beneath my feet. They forged those chains to bind me. Their wizards created weapons that might even have cleaved my scales if they’d had warriors mighty enough to reach me. They did not. But still they fought on.”

  He swept his tail down and hooked the chain that held Sorrel. The swift motion yanked her forward and sent her sprawling, but also pulled the other end free of where he’d pinned it and wrapped it about the tail’s spiked end. It was a motion he’d mastered, one he performed every time he felt the need to drag her about like a dog on a leash.

  “Follow…” he ordered, as though she had a choice.

  #

  A misting rain fell upon the edge of the forest as the twins rushed along. For better or worse, possibly because they saw them as their own kind rather than enemies, the Reds hadn’t treated Wren or Reyna as prisoners. They’d slipped from the village without much effort, though now the wind from behind carried the subtle but persistent scent of pursuers.

  “Maybe we should have waited until night,” Wren murmured quietly as he and his sister plodded along the muck that the rain had made of the forest floor.

  “No,” Reyna said sluggishly. “Not a minute longer than we need to.”

  “If they catch us, we lose the day.”

  “Then we don’t let them catch us.”

  Wren blinked the water from his eyes. “That means no hiding. They know the forest better than we do. And hiding doesn’t take us any closer to Mama. We need to… down!”

  He shoved Reyna into a pool of mud and plopped down beside her. They each drew a deep breath and wallowed deep into the thick goop. A few moments later, a glittering form buzzed through the air above them. A water fairy was tracking them like a hunter’s hound. It lingered for a moment, then continued on.

  The twins waited as long as they could before resurfacing and gasping softly for air.

  “Mama never taught us anything about fairies,” Reyna said.

  “I guess maybe Mama doesn’t know everything.”

  They drew themselves out of the mud and continued on. Sloppy, wet forest floor made for slow going. It also meant the path behind was difficult to conceal. But the slow going cut both ways. Even if they found the traces of the path the twins traveled, those seeking them wouldn’t be able to move much faster than the young ones could.

  The day dragged on, and the drizzle turned into a downpour. Thi
s pitched things further in favor of Reyna and Wren, as the pounding drops drowned out any sort of sound the twins might make, tamped down the scent, and wiped away some of the trace they left behind. But too much travel and too little sleep were taking their toll on the twins. Worse, they didn’t have much choice when it came to which way to go. They were heading for the mountains. They didn’t know precisely where Boviss could be found, but the map they’d been shown narrowed it down to a cluster of three mountains northeast of the village. They had to move in that direction, or they’d be wasting precious time. But as they drew nearer, the wind blew down from the mountains more and more. That wind would carry their scent back to their trackers.

  A few hours more sapped them of enough strength to make them sloppy. They’d stumbled upon an old riverbed that was beginning to flow again thanks to the downpour. The smooth stones in and around the crystal-clear water meant they could move at a near run without leaving prints or fouling their steps. It was the perfect place to move without a trace. And if Sorrel had seen them dashing along it, she would have pounced upon them and scolded them. The perfect place to escape a hunter is the first place a hunter would look.

  “How…” Reyna swallowed hard. “How much farther to the mountains…”

  “I don’t know. There’s not even a slope. It must be a long way.”

  She wiped her eyes. The constant rain had washed most of the mud from her face, but it was also terribly cold. Coupled with their tramping along in the reawakened stream, she was shivering. She paused to try to will away the quaking in her bones. Wren made it a few strides more before he noticed she’d faltered.

  “Reyna. Just a little farther. If we… Reyna!”

  The same pounding rain that made their motions as good as silent to their trackers did the same for the buzz of little wings. Some combination of good luck and better intuition had allowed them to hide whenever the fairies had approached before. But their luck had run out. A glimmering form was flitting directly toward them.

  Wren grabbed Reyna’s arm and hauled her forward as fast as he could. It was a heroic act, but he was as tired and cold as she was, and he managed to coax only a few extra strides out of her before he lost his footing and both of them splashed down into the water.

  They floundered. The rush of water caught them, and the pair was washed down the stream. Reyna coughed and sputtered, trying to paddle for the shore. Layers of clothes and heaps of stolen goods were excellent for surviving when on the run in the woods. When caught in the current of a flash flood, they were very nearly a death sentence. Their weight dragged her below the surface. Her blurry vision caught first a glimpse of the thrashing form of her brother, then the wavering glow of the fairy who had spotted them. The glow vanished. Wren and Reyna bounced and tumbled along the river bottom. Stones clattered and rattled beneath them. Something solid struck Wren. He blindly wrapped an arm around it and flailed for his sister. She missed his paw, but caught his tail.

  Neither knew quite what it was that had served as a sudden and painful anchor, but they didn’t care. They scrambled along it and, with a few grateful and heaving breaths, flopped onto the rain-drenched shore.

  Reyna coughed and sputtered. She blinked rain and mud from her eyes to find her brother still clutching a stout vine that had emerged from the ground. Reyna couldn’t remember passing it, and she was quite certain it would have stuck out to her, as it was the vivid, brilliant green of new growth.

  Wren hauled himself up onto his elbows and glared at the tiny figure perched atop the vine. He coughed. “Losh?”

  The fairy teetered a bit and flopped forward. Wren caught him.

  “Losh… make vine.” He shook his head. “Not easy…”

  “Why are you here?” Reyna asked. “H-how did you find us?”

  “Reyna, Wren, Losh. Friends. Losh always find friends.” He shook his head and flitted back into the air. “No one find Losh friends. Follow.”

  #

  Sorrel huffed a breath and shuffled forward, led along by Boviss at the end of her chain. It hadn’t taken much to get the dragon talking. He may not have been fooled by her words of praise, but the effect had been the same. After two unbroken hours of constant boasting, he’d not even finished listing off the achievements in the central part of his lair.

  “And here,” he rumbled, leaning low to a lance embedded in the stone. “Handled by five dwarves. The nearest any came to piercing my hide. And still it was scarcely a scratch.”

  He raised his wing and curled his neck to glance at the scar left by the attack. It was quite low along his side. As large as Boviss was, any wound in a battle against lesser creatures couldn’t hope to reach higher than the thickest plates of his armored underbelly. It was certainly deeper than the mere scratches that showed on this plate of armor or that, but it was still superficial. Far from the weak spot she would have hoped his boasts would eventually uncover. It underscored just how mighty he truly was.

  “You are strong,” Sorrel said, reaching up toward the mark.

  “Invincible,” Boviss corrected. “The mere mention of my name is enough to keep the elves in the south where they belong. No human, no dwarf, no creature great or small will challenge me. The whole of North Crescent trembles in fear that my shadow might cross their lands. I chased the dwarves from their greatest city. Do you have any notion how viciously they defend what is theirs? But they are gone, never to return. What was theirs is mine.”

  “And yet you need our people to feed you. To supply you with fresh wealth.”

  He threw his head back. The lair trembled with his laughter.

  “Do you believe that I need your kind?”

  He strutted toward what remained of the offering of food. Much of it remained uneaten, and from the looks of the nearby mounds of bones and sinew, a dozen or more such offerings had been left untouched. The coolness and dryness of the cave kept them from rotting, but they were nonetheless rendered inedible piles of wasted flesh.

  “Look at this. Simple tastes for simple creatures. An easy meal, but my proper meals come from the sea.”

  “But… if you do not need the food, and you do not need the wealth…”

  “Oh, I do enjoy the gold.” He stirred the mound idly. “More is always better than less.”

  “But the food.”

  He padded back to his precious mound of gold and curled atop it. “What can you make of that riddle, I wonder?”

  “You have nothing to prove. You know you are mighty. We know you are mighty.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured in vague agreement.

  “… Then why?” Sorrel said. “Why make demands of my people. Is it cruelty?”

  Boviss rolled to his back, sweeping his tail. The motion whipped her off her feet. “Cruelty. You say you are rare in the place you call home. Here, there are many. Your people live because of me. You would call that cruelty?”

  She stood and wrestled away a tremor of anger. “Then why demand so much?!”

  “Because it is not charity either.”

  “Then request less. Request food from the forest and wealth from the desert. I have been among those of the desert. What you do now pits desert against forest.”

  Boviss shook with a deep chuckle. Sorrel’s jaw tightened.

  “That is why you do this…” she fumed.

  “My years are many, Child of the Forest Across the Sea. One must fill one’s time. Battling endless hoards of tiny, worthless things is wearying. So we find other ways. We let them battle one another. We tug their strings. We watch the show.”

  He raised his tail. The chain drew tight, lifting Sorrel into the air by her neck. She grasped the chain to keep from being strangled as he lifted her over his grinning maw.

  “The gifts of food and gold are how your kind show your gratitude to me. And you may think I have no gratitude for you. Untrue. You have brought me much entertainment. And for that I am quite grateful.”

  He flicked his tail. Sorrel swung aside and slid to a stop on the floor
.

  “Silence now. And sleep. Tomorrow I shall show you more of what I have gathered in my years. And when I am through?” He lowered his head and shut his eyes. “I am certain I can find some way to wring more entertainment out of you.”

  He settled comfortably down onto his golden bed and slipped into the effortless sleep of a creature with nothing to fear. Sorrel shakily climbed to her feet and dusted herself off. Her chain was still tangled with the massive dragon’s tail. She wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon. A bit of tugging and hauling got her near enough to the wasted mounds of food to snatch a bit of the fresh offering to eat. As she gnawed at the meal, she gazed at the sleeping dragon. The lights overhead faded slowly, drained of their stolen magic.

  This… was life. She could survive this. Like everything else she had faced, she could survive it. There was food. And as wise as the creature believed itself to be, it was not beyond her skills of manipulation. This would not be pleasant, but it would be life. At least until he grew weary of her. There was no telling how long that would be.

  Her eyes drifted to the faint glow of her mystic chain.

  She would simply have to ensure the time she had was long enough.

  #

  Far below, many hours later, the twins were curled against one another, huddled into the crook of a branch far above the ground and deep asleep. They’d kept moving for as long as they could, but even a young malthrope couldn’t run forever without sleep. Losh sat atop them, eyes fixed on the forest below. He’d done the work already, coaxed the wind into an obliging coil. It wouldn’t carry the scent of the young ones away. The Reds from the village had come and gone. They had no reason to believe the twins might have the aid of a fairy, and so they trusted that if their scent was absent, so too were their targets. Now there was nothing to do but sit and wait.

  The rain pattered to a stop in time for the last of the sun’s rays to offer a bit of warmth before the coolness of night set in. By rights, the little ones could have—and should have—slept through the whole of the night and well into the day. They’d spent the last night in search of the village of the Red malthropes. Their respite within its borders was brief. Alas, raw exhaustion couldn’t wipe from their minds the important task at hand. They’d been running for a reason, and that reason haunted their dreams just as surely as it haunted their waking hours.